She was shocked at his words, at the sincerity in his voice and in his eyes, but just as quickly as he hit her with this revelation that she knew, when he said family, he meant his three best friends, he got back to business.
“Let’s get a closer look.”
Her heart was pounding, the adrenaline still pumping from the earlier shootout. If they got caught, if those soldiers found them, they would be killed. No question. She trusted Charro. She’d realized just how much at this moment when he expressed how deeply he cared and also planned on getting them to safety, together. She sucked up the fear, the gut instinct that warned her to not go into the crowd but head away from here. Far, far away from here. But they would never leave a man behind. They had to ensure that no one was left from the team and in need of help.
She hurried along with him, weapon in hand, covered by the garment she wore. They began to walk amongst the travelers.
She was hoping to catch a glimpse of Spence, Johnny, Carl, or even Cecile, anyone from the team of undercover operatives.
“Fuck. Run, Sacha. Run!” he yelled, drew his weapon, and fired.
She jerked at the sight as his head flew back and his body hit the ground. People screamed. She saw the bullet hole in his forehead. Her heart caught in her throat as she froze in place and stared down at him. This wasn’t real. He wasn’t dead. The yelling and commotion caused her to snap out of her shock as she looked and saw the men, three of them with guns. Then they looked at her, and the veil fell from her mouth, revealing her American identity and the makeshift disguise to be fake, and it was as though they weren’t sure if she was with Charro or not. Then they spoke in their language. “You, right there. Don’t move.” She started to ease her way back. They yelled stop, and she turned and ran.
They were following her. Charro was dead, killed right next to her as they searched for their team. Everyone must be dead. She was totally freaking out, scared out of her mind, stuck in this godforsaken country with no other help or contacts. Bullets whizzed past her head as she ducked around the corner, pulled her weapon, turned, and shot. Once, twice. She took two down, and the third jumped for cover. She took off running, down the side streets, between the crowds of locals selling vegetables, handmade products, food, clothing. There were so many people and then sets of five-story buildings. She headed toward the back of the buildings where the high grasses were and lots of brush and places to hide.
She was shaking so hard as she turned and ducked down low behind some heavy brush. She could hear him. He was yelling into a radio, saying that she was in the brush somewhere and that he needed backup.
Charro was dead. Everyone is dead except for me. What the fuck went wrong?
She remembered Charro’s words. “We were set up. Someone from the inside.”
She thought of his admission, his idea of them exploring their feelings for one another and meeting his family. His family was a bunch of soldiers, too. She wanted to cry, to scream in anger at what had just happened. They’d killed Charro. A bullet to his head right next to her.
Sacha covered her mouth with her hand, and it was too late when she felt the presence and then the body slam against hers. She lost her breath, felt the heavy clothing, the weapons, and the belt of bullets along his jacket. It was the man who’d been chasing them. She forearmed him to the throat. He struck her back. She was screaming and yelling in anger, in desperation, and tried to maneuver her weapon into position to shoot him. He grabbed her clothing, ripped it, and struck her again and again. Her arm was stuck under the garment she wore as her disguise. She cursed the damn thing and then felt his hands rip open the robe, tearing it and freeing her arms. She gripped her weapon.
She head-butted him. His nose broke, and blood splattered. He yelled at her in his language, telling her she was a whore, a dead American whore, and that she would die just like the others, that Black Out could never be stopped.
“Fuck you.” She shifted her knee up, sending him upward. She heard the yelling and him telling backup where they were. She didn’t want to die. She wasn’t going to die here. Images of her father and her brother popped into her head. She was a Marine, a fighter, well trained, and she would die for her country. Black Out would not win. She pulled the trigger of her gun, hitting him in the gut, sending him off of her as she rolled to the right. The others were on her, just feet away as she shifted up, shooting from a sitting position, using her stomach and leg muscles to remain upright as she picked them off one after the next. Six men and then she felt the hit to her side. She gasped as the seventh jumped toward her, firing his weapon, and she just kept shooting. It was like slow motion, watching him fly through the air, feeling the bullet to her side penetrate her skin, and then seeing his body jerk simultaneously as he fell right over her and she used her legs and arms to flip him.
She slammed backward, landed hard to the ground, felt the ache and the loss of breath, but her adrenaline was pumping, and she was determined to live. She scooted out from under him and looked around in the darkness, barely seeing the bodies. In the distance she heard more yelling, and she knew she wouldn’t be able to hold them off. The sight of the blood on a face drew her closer. The disguise had been lifted from his face and revealed a white man. An American?
She pulled herself up, grabbed her side, took two other guns and ammo, and ran. She just kept running and running until she could no longer catch her breath and her legs gave up on her.
* * * *
“Franco, I understand that you’re upset. We all are, but you can’t just take off for Kabul and Pakistan looking aimlessly for your sister. It’s been eight weeks since we were notified of her disappearance and possible death. Eight weeks,” Maddox Landers said to Franco as Franco paced.
Franco exhaled as he stood there waiting to leave for his own special operations mission in Iraq. Maddox had been forthright in showing him all the files, the pictures they’d gotten from intelligence and droids showing how brutally Sacha’s team had been murdered. Her body hadn’t been found. No one had reported any sightings of an American woman on the run, or being found dead, or even attempting to get into an embassy. Could they be holding her prisoner? The thought angered him and put a fear in his gut like nothing else.
Maddox came around his desk. The man was older with gray hair and dark glasses, and he was a bit of a prick. He had a great reputation, and Franco had been pleased when Sacha wound up in a special unit under his command. He hadn’t realized the intense and dangerous shit she had been doing, but that was Sacha. She lived on the edge, always had something to prove, and she was capable. He’d take her as a teammate and partner in any mission he went on, no matter how dangerous. Their father had taught them well. He’d drilled in survival techniques, self-defense, and psychological strength training so they would be more than prepared if ever held prisoner by the enemy.
While other girls were playing with dolls and thinking about first kisses and dates, she was kicking boys’ asses in hand-to-hand combat, assembling and disassembling her weapon in record speed, and earning respect and commendations from all her commanding officers and her fellow Marines. She was an asset to the Corps and to the United States of America. But what the fuck was she doing in Kabul in the middle of all this danger and terrorist shit?
“It’s frustrating, Maddox. From what you’ve been so kind to share with me, it seems like it was a set-up. Are you guys investigating any leads as to who snitched on them or screwed up the intel?”
Maddox exhaled and ran his hand along his jaw. “I’m going to be honest with you and give you it straight, but if you say a word, I’ll deny ever even speaking to you, never mind showing you the pictures.”
He nodded.
“From what’s being gathered so far, it looks like Charro or Spencer set the team up.”
He squinted at him. He knew who Charro was. In fact, he knew some men who were good friends with Charro and had even worked with him. The Vancouver men had gone on missions with Charro. There was no way Charro was
involved.
“I doubt Charro had anything to do with it. He’s good people, a true American soldier and patriot. There’s no way.”
“Well, our investigators are gathering evidence. So far they’ve come up with some possible incriminating evidence on both Charro and Spence.”
“Like what?”
“Like I cannot get into it. I’m sorry, Franco.”
Franco exhaled. “I understand. Please keep me informed of any news or changes. I want to be kept abreast of the investigation so that justice can be served.”
“I understand. Your sister was a major asset to the team.” He reached out to shake his hand. Franco shook it, holding it and holding Maddox’s gaze.
“My sister isn’t dead. I just know she isn’t.”
Maddox gave him a somber expression and didn’t argue or reply. Franco headed out of the office feeling angry, useless, and ready to blow his stack. He made his way out of the federal building and headed toward the parking garage. He was set to leave tonight. He needed to stop by his father’s place and let him know what was going on now and who they were looking at.
* * * *
“Charro is a good soldier. There is no way he set the team up, and definitely not Sacha.”
“Dad, I don’t know what to believe. This not knowing is fucking killing me, and I need to leave for Iraq.”
“And you will leave because you have a job to do. Maddox knows to contact me with any updates?”
Franco nodded.
“Good, so tell me what he gave you. What do they think went down and happened to the team?” Devan asked his son.
As he listened and heard about the multiple bodies and how the team had been tortured or killed execution style, he realized that it did seem as though the team had been set up. That someone who knew very intricate details of the mission had compromised it.
“It sounds like a set-up. There’s no way it was Charro. What do we know about this Spence guy?”
“I couldn’t find out much without raising red flags. I could already get into some serious trouble with what I snooped around looking for. That’s how I got Maddox to give up more about the investigation.”
“The waiting and not knowing if she is dead or alive is killing me, too. I’d hate to think that she is dead, but knowing where she was, and how impossible it would be to get across Pakistan and to India or a safer location for help, with no assistance or backup, leaves me to believe she’s dead.”
Devan felt sick to his stomach. She was his baby girl, his everything, and despite him teaching her to be self-sufficient and her being well trained in every aspect of being a soldier, an undercover operative, he wasn’t prepared for these feelings of being useless and having to live without ever seeing her again. She was the last reminder of Ava, his wife who’d died in a car accident when Sacha was four. He didn’t know anything about raising a girl, a child, but he’d done his best. She was eager to please, a smart, fast learner, and a sponge for military things, both history and being a soldier. He’d been her role model, and she’d instinctively idolized him and wanted to be just like him and, of course, like her big brother, Franco. They did everything together, and she never backed down. If she failed at something, she kept trying and trying until she got it right. She was a fighter.
The sound of Franco’s phone ringing brought Devan’s mind back to the present.
“Hello?” he answered.
His son covered his one ear, squinted, and raised his voice into the mouth of the phone.
“Long distance from who?” His son’s eyes widened as he stared at Devan. “Sacha?”
Chapter 1
Sacha lay in a shitty bed in the middle of a shithole in New Delhi, India. She felt like hell. She was thin, battered still, but at least the bullet that had hit her side had gone right through the skin and not needed anything more than some stitches. She had waited until she was able to get into India and one of the clean clinics in town. She didn’t even know what day it was until she finally got through the clinic, cleaned up a little, and into a spare room some locals rented out to her. Thank God she wore that military watch and the stupid gold ankle bracelet under her garments. She’d sold them all for cash, along with one of the guns and bullets she had, too. They were U.S. issued and worth a lot of money on the streets in Balochistan before she headed into Pakistan and then caught a ride into New Delhi. She didn’t trust anyone and traveled on foot or stole vehicles when she could. She was surprised at her capabilities, but fear was a powerful motivator indeed.
She wouldn’t head to the U.S. embassy because she didn’t trust anyone. Someone had set them up and could be watching, just waiting to pick her off, especially since she was the sole survivor from the mission and she had the copies of the thumb drives and microchips. She’d watched Charro die right next to her, and she could have been killed, too.
She was pissed. She had so much time to think things through and realized that, perhaps, the snitch wasn’t someone who was on the mission but someone who knew they were there in Kabul and ready to get evidence on Black Out and their terrorist operations. Could that small cell not be as small as the government thought? Why would someone in the U.S. not want to destroy such an organization? Her mind went over everything, and she figured it was better to be safe than sorry and not trust anyone. But she needed out of the Middle East. She needed to be on U.S. soil. Besides, she had the microchips, the thumb drives, and the other shit in this envelope that was encoded, whatever it was.
When she racked her brain trying to figure out whom to trust and who she didn’t want to place in any danger, she came up short. The only people she trusted at the moment were her brother and father. Her dad was retired and older. He didn’t need this kind of aggravation. Her brother, Franco, was still active duty, but she didn’t want him involved. He could lose his position in the military or get killed trying to help her. But she really didn’t have much of a choice. She was running out of money and had only about a week’s worth of dough left. She needed out of here, and the only one who could help her was her brother. He could get fake passports, money, and get her a ride home.
She had made the call over a week ago and made him promise to not come here himself, especially because he had his own mission to go on. She didn’t want any red flags raised or for anyone in the government to know she was back. Now all she could do was wait to see whom he sent to get her then pray that they made it out of here alive and that she had enough physical strength to get through the trek and finally make it home. Whoever was coming, she prayed they got here soon. She was tired of feeling scared.
* * * *
Damien placed the phone on speaker. His brothers, Elwood and Toro, gathered around him in their home office in Wellington. They were getting ready to head out to Crossroads for a few drinks with their friends.
“Holy shit, Franco. She’s the only one alive?” he asked as Franco explained about the call from his sister, Sacha. A month ago they had found out that Charro, a very good friend of theirs, had been killed while on a mission. They had spoken to him only days earlier about him coming back home.
“Yes. The others are dead. Sacha is the only one who survived somehow. I couldn’t get the details because time is limited and I’m shipping off to Iraq in about two hours. I need your help. No one can know where you’re going or that you have Sacha.”
Damien and his brothers listened as Franco explained about a snitch on the inside and setting them up. “Sacha explained briefly about not trusting anyone, not even her commanders. She also said going home, heading toward our father’s, could be dangerous.”
Damien knew she would need help getting into the States and would need fake I.D. and a passport.
“She should stay here with us, in Wellington. We have the cabin in the woods, which is secure, and have a high-tech security system in place. We can provide her with whatever she needs here.” Elwood said, adding to the conversation.
“I was hoping that you would offer. I won’t be ba
ck for four weeks, and my dad has respected Sacha’s wishes for him to stay put and not show a change in his routine, just in case someone is watching.”
“Jesus, your old man must be pissed,” Toro said.
“He’s relieved that she’s alive. That’s what we’re focused on. You should know that she’s injured. She didn’t say how badly, but I heard the strain in her voice. She’s been on the run, hiding, surviving for over a month’s time. I know you guys, just like I do, have experience with coping after such an ordeal. She’s stubborn.”
“Like another Marine we know,” Damien said, glancing at Toro.
“Yeah, well, she’s extra stubborn and always having something to prove. She won’t trust you. She may even think of leaving there because she wouldn’t want to place you guys in danger, and I didn’t exactly tell her that you guys were coming for her. The conversation was quick. God knows, when Sacha gets something in her head, there’s no changing her mind about it. So this is what I think will work, if you can be prepared to head out ASAP.”
Two hours later, Damien and his men were on route across the country, heading to the Middle East. He hoped they all got out of there alive.
* * * *
“They are no longer a problem, Mahem. I’ve told you to move on and finish the plan for the attack,” he said to Mahem as he looked around at the buildings, being sure to use the untraceable burner phone.
“I put you in charge of this, and you weren’t fully prepared to kill all of them.”
“I didn’t think they would get so close.”
“Well, they did, and somehow that woman got her hands on things she should not have. I want you to find her. If she is alive, if she got out, then she has those documents and my entire operation, and your involvement, as well as the others’, will be compromised. They’ll be no covering this up.”
Crossroads 6: Love Undercover (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting) Page 2
